Petite Amies a Paris
by SagaciousSagittarius
Summary: Girlfriends in Paris. Rose Lalonde is sent to Paris by the prestigious magazine, The Felt, to write an article on fashion designer Portia Maraj (Porrim). Though her coworker Jade Harley is quick to remind her that they are in Paris for business purposes only, a certain French model isn't helping her stay focused... (Humanstuck AU, Rosemary! Rated T for later chapters) ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1: Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler

**Petite Amies à Paris**

I couldn't believe it; I was finally in Paris! It seemed as though I had been destined to come here my entire life but had never had the chance. Even from the view of my taxi, the world looked much brighter than it did when I was in New York. The buildings were ancient with character and the people were so fashionable as they walked down their street just to get a loaf of bread. It felt like I was home!

"Rose? Rose, were you listening to me?"

Oh, that is right. This place cannot be my home. I'm here for "business purposes".

"You have to listen to me Rose. If you don't this whole deal could go entirely wrong!" My co-worker Jade was appearing to get uncharacteristically angry.

"Hmm, yes I was listening," I quickly retorted, snapping my head around. "I was just trying to multitask you see. I am preparing myself for our dinner with the director tonight. I believe I have some very captivating subjects to talk about that he would be particularly interested in. Now all I have to do is translate them into French…"

"Okay," Jade didn't sound convinced. "Look, you just have to remember that we're not here on vacation. Like Snow said, we're 'formal diplomats representing a prized American magazine'. We have to stay focused and on task!" She pounded her fist on the little clipboard that she always carried around in her hand, startling the cabby.

"Sorry! _Désolé_!" I apologized to the cab driver for my friend. He just grunted. Under my breath, I hissed. "Jade! What happened to 'formal diplomats'? We don't want to look like stupid Americans!"

"Hey! In no way do I look like a stupid American. I doubt a 'stupid American' would've brought all these guide books on Paris!" Jade then produced four travel brochures from her backpack. "Here take a look at this one! It lists all the famous restaurants and cafés in the city so we can dine like real Parisian's."

"Do you suppose _real_ Parisian's get their facts from a travel brochure?"

"Well Rose, these restaurants-"

"Excuse me, Mademoiselles, we have, er, arrived at your hotel." The taxi driver interrupted Jade and I just then realized that the car was no longer in motion.

Jade was out of the car immediately, whipping out her camera and taking some snapshots of the hotel. I didn't blame her; the agency really had done a great job in picking out a hotel for us. Just the visage of the building, with its grand pillars and golden trim, was enough to put many of the five-star hotels back in New York to shame. I made a mental note to go out with my camera later.

In the meantime, I had to pick up the tip that my partner seemed to have forgotten about. I paid the cab driver the total balance and decided to give him a fairly generous tip; it _was_ the company's credit card I was using to pay with after all.

"Rose? Rose! Hurry up, I want to get to our room!" Jade called for me. I noted that she was at the top of the steps leading to the front door of the hotel and I was still with the taxi. Jade peered at me from the top of the stairs and crossed her legs with a look of pain on her face. "C'mon, I really have to pee!"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Well then, why don't you go along and check us in with the receptionist. I'll work on getting our bags out of the taxi."

"Gee, thanks Rose, you're the best! I really gotta go now, though!" With that she spun around through a revolving door. I was so used to my hyperactive coworker by now that it didn't even faze me.

I could understand why she would be so excited about not having to carry our luggage. In Paris, we would be going to various different fashion shows and dinner parties. One of those fashion shows happened to be where I would conduct the most important interview of my life: the interview with world-renowned fashion designer extraordinaire Portia Maraj, or, as she is known in the fashion-scene, Porrim.

As a result, Jade and I had to stuff four oversized suitcases with various outfit plans – and, let's not forget, matching accessories. Not to mention we also had two large handbags filled with makeup supplies.

"Excuse me, monsieur!" I called over to one of the bellhops. "Would you mind helping me with my bags?"

"Of course, it's no problem, miss!" He smiled brightly, probably excited of the prospect of getting a large tip for taking all these bags. He grabbed two of the large suitcases, one in each hand, and right then his expression changed."

"Wow," he said, breathing hard as he inched the luggage to the stairs. "These are a lot heavier than they look… I might have to get a cart…"

He ran up the steps to the other bellhops standing outside of the hotel and together they got a cart and began loading our luggage onto it.

I thought I should do something at least, so I grabbed the two makeup bags. Just like the suitcases, these were heavier than they looked. I sighed and rolled my eyes. _Of course Jade. _I began to lug these up the steps. Ugh, it felt like my arms were being stretched to the ground by large weights. My high heels weren't helping to ease my troubles.

Halfway up and I thought my heels and I wouldn't be able to make it. This grand hotel now seemed like a punishment. As much as I love old architecture, I _do_ appreciate an elevator now and then. This surely had to be the hotel with the most steps in all of Paris. Leave it to Snow.

Suddenly, I felt the weight of one of those bags being lifted away from me.

"Don't worry, ma'am. I got this one for you!" A woman at my side whispered into my ear with a smile.

I turned to face her so that I could properly thank her when I felt my knees go weak, and it wasn't the weight I was carrying this time.

Standing next to me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. She gave a little chuckle as she smiled down on me with pearly white teeth and smooth pink glossed lips. When I say she smiled down on me, I meant she smiled _down _on me. She must've been at least 6 feet! She had a Coco Chanel like beauty: slim, long, pointed features and a slightly messy black bob. She was also dressed like Coco Chanel, maybe not in Chanel, but what I assumed the fashion phenomenon would dress like. She had a short, draped black dress with sheer trim. He wore a vintage bowler hat, which just showed her hair, and was carrying a mesh clutch purse to match. Even her makeup was dramatic and flapper-like. Her outfit impressed me, but I was in love with her smile.

I had to turn away again before I thanked her, solely to hide my blushing face. "Um, t-thank you. That was really nice thing of you to do… miss..."

"Kanya," she said, extending the hand she wasn't using to carry my bag. "Kanya Maraj."


	2. Chapter 2: Une Touriste Americaine

**A/N: Yeah, this chapter is really short, but I promise, the chapter's will get longer and have more to them!**

* * *

I did a double take at the stunning woman in front of me. Her dark brown eyes scanned me over and her smile looked a tad worried. "Is something the matter?" She asked.

I cleared my throat. "Oh, no of course not!" I reassured her. "It's just, I thought I heard you say 'Maraj', as in the designer…"

Kanya let out a little chuckle. "You like Portia's work I see?" It wasn't really the reply I was looking for, but I told her that was true. "Well, she is a wonderful designer." She nodded knowingly.

Before I got the chance to say something else on the matter, Kanya shot me a smile and started making her way to the front door. Kanya took long strides towards the front of the hotel. "Wait!" I yelled, trying desperately to catch up to her in my heels.

She was already at the door, turned around and waiting for me to catch up. "Would you like me to help you bring these to your room?"

"Oh no!" I felt my cheeks redden. I didn't like to be a burden to people. Especially people who looked like this woman; who had better things to do than stand waste their time with someone like me. "It's really no trouble. I can make it up the rest of the way. Besides, I don't even know where my room is. My friend was supposed to get the key and meet me…" I tried to scan the lobby then, but I could not see Jade through the sea of bodies.

"Are you sure it is no trouble? I don't want you to be stressed." Kanya frowned at me, and I almost wanted to let her stay with me and wait for Jade because she just seemed so eager to help and genuinely caring.

Then a feeling of guilt took over me. I was taking advantage of a person I just met. "No trouble…" I said.

Kanya placed the makeup bag on the floor next to me. She rocked back and forth on her feet, and for a moment we both just stood there. A part of me didn't want Kanya to leave, or for Jade to come get me, because I knew the moment we parted ways we wouldn't see each other again. Paris was one of the largest cities in the world, after all. There were hundreds upon hundreds of people here, and the chances of meeting the same one again were slim.

I know it sounds odd for me to have gotten so attached to a person I just met, but I felt so connected to this woman. She looked like the type of woman I would have idolized to be when I was a teenager, curled up in my bedroom cutting haute couture models out of magazines and practicing with my new Urban Decay makeup pallet.

"You look so sad," she said, her brows furrowed with concern. I sighed "You know, if you ever need to talk to me, I'll be in room 263, on the top floor!"

Right then, I had a _how stupid are you Rose Lalonde _moment. Of course she was staying here, why else would she be standing outside, and be willing to take time to help me bring my bag inside?

Kanya reached out and gently held my shoulder, causing me to flinch _just a little_. "Listen, I know how hard it is to be a first time traveler. You must be… homesick, is it? Don't worry, Paris is a very nice city, and you'll be feeling at home in no time." With that, the French woman removed her hand from my shoulder and adjusted her bowler hat.

"_Bonne chance! _Good luck," she paused for a moment pressing her finger to her lips. "What was your name? I do not believe you told me."

This was it. Our little meeting was over. "Rose Lalonde," I stated glumly.

"Rose Lalonde…" she practiced my name, the words dripping from her mouth like honey, slow and sweet. I swear I've never had someone make my name sound so… so… sexy.

I just nodded to let her know she got it.

Kanya gave her cute little laugh again, and left for the elevators to the left with a twirl of black fabric.

It took me a while, but soon after she left I realized that she thought I was a "first time traveler."

Oh my god. I was looking like a stupid American tourist.


End file.
